


itsyourfault

by syntheticaesthetic



Category: Marble Hornets
Genre: Gen, Post-Entry 87
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:31:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/syntheticaesthetic/pseuds/syntheticaesthetic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I only tried to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	itsyourfault

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this tumblr post, written in the 30 minutes my internet was out.  
> http://the44thpilot.tumblr.com/post/133130658735/i-want-it-on-fire-the44thpilot

He struggled for a while.

 

Directionless, passionless.

 

He was a shell.

 

He felt empty.

 

_(well not truly empty, there’s was always the fear, the leftover, lingering fear, willitcomebackwillitcomebackwillitcomeback)_

 

He’s not sure when it happened. After the final upload his days, weeks, months, years, became blurred. He hardly remembers any of it. But one day, its like he’s awake again. He’s back on a college campus, older and maybe wiser? He’s sitting at a desk, getting ready to take an exam. A sheet of paper is passed to him and he places it neatly in the center, automatically writing down his name in the corner alongside a new student ID number that he must have memorized at some point.

 

He’s taking an exam meant for a med student, he realizes with a small jolt. Its even more shocking when he scans down the list of questions and realizes that he knows some of the answers. Is this what he’s doing? Studying medicine? When did that happen? How? Why?

 

He passes the exam. Maybe not perfectly, but pretty damn close. He must be pretty good at studying now. Perhaps he’s less distracted? More focused? He doesn’t seem to socialize much and he can’t find anything lurking in the shadows.

 

He graduates.

 

He does his time interning. He gets a job. Becomes a nurse.

 

It’s a children’s ward.

 

Somehow it was always going to come back to this, spending his time in the children’s ward. But he’s on the other side now, and he’s trying his best to be better than those who were in charge of his care so many years ago.

 

It isn’t easy. He understands the challenges now. They come from all sides – from the parents, the doctors, the administrators, the children and their failing minds and bodies themselves and _God isn’t it a wrench to even think that? To admit that there can be failure in a situation such as this?_

_(he could have been a failure. probably was a failure. he’s doing something with his life, sure, finally, after all of these years, but it still feels like he’s doing little more than existing and there’s always the possibility that just breathing does more harm than good)_

 

_(don’tthinkaboutwhatalexsaiddon’tthinkaboutwhatalexsaidalexwaswrongalexgaveindon’tgiveindon’tletitwin)_

 

He feels for them. He recalls with perfect clarity the pain that comes along with making the hospital your home. There are times he wants to scream. He bloodied his knuckles once, on the walls outside of the hospital after a little girl with dim and tired eyes told him that her parents had decided that they weren’t going to come back and visit anymore. When he asked her why her response had been simple, kind, and understanding _(more than they deserved):_ “It hurt them too much to see me.” He knew that they would be transferring guardianship to the state; that they would be giving up their parental rights and would stop seeing their daughter just to make themselves feel better when their priority should have been her.

 

He certainly didn’t feel any better after punching that wall. Neither did the teenage boy with the dark hair and the wane face who watched him do so through the window.

 

He wants to help them. Sometimes he does. Sometimes they go home just as well if not better than before. Sometimes they don’t. Sometimes there is nothing to be done. Sometimes mistakes are made, and the past can’t be changed. Sometimes they don’t do enough. Sometimes _he_ doesn’t do enough.

 

But, _God_ , how he tries.

 

It’s weird to think about, to even recognize, but he’s become a favorite in the ward. Nurse Tim, who takes time out of his day to play with them, talk to them, explain to them in terms they can understand but without talking down to them what exactly is happening to them, and why everything can be fine again.

 

His social life has never changed. He rarely spends time with anyone outside of work. His place is there, trying to make a difference. Trying to give those children a chance.

 

Until one day it changes.

 

Until one day he looks down the hall, clipboard in hand, and sees a shadow.  It takes too long to register in his mind, just exactly what it is. But when it clicks, when he sees _IT_ for the first time in _YEARS_ he panics. He can’t move. He watches It as It watches another child and doesn’t know what to do.

 

_(youcan’tprotectthemyouhavetorun)_

_(I have to stay, I have to protect, I have to explain, teach, show them how to fight it)_

_(theyshouldn’thavetolearn)_

 

 

 

_(itsyourfault)_


End file.
